Wasted Years
by Earwax
Summary: Post-NFA. Angel gets Shanshued. Spike has something to say about that.


**Author's Notes: **Written because there are so few Angel Shanshu fics out there. Damn you, Spike, for taking over fandom.

**Wasted Years**

**(An Angel Fic)**

The poof's getting ready to leave, I can tell. He's walking around checking to see if he's forgotten anything. Stupid git's like a damn woman. He never forgets anything. Ever. Whiny bitch that he is. His stuff's by the door. He packed it all hours ago. I don't understand it, last night he'd been eager to leave. So eager, in fact, that he'd almost stormed out and spent his last night in California sleeping at the airport. It's past noon now and Angel's bags still lie undisturbed by the apartment door. Angel wants to leave, he really does, but there's still the problem of me. All human now and there's still all that damn emotional baggage. Damn bastard feels responsible for me. Still doesn't care enough to stay.

I'm sitting silently on the couch determinedly not looking in Angel's direction. Pathetic loser that I am, I'm hugging myself.

"You could come with me," he offers.

I still don't look at him. He gave me a ticket earlier. I ripped it up. I don't need his goddamn pity.

"You know I can't do that, Peaches."

"You can't stay here. The lease will expire soon."

Like I don't know when the lease will expire. I was there when the poof signed the thing. We've being living together like we're fucking married for months now.

"I'm not a child," I say. "I'm perfectly capable of finding another place to sleep."

"I know you can, I was just..."

"Go away."

I sound so defeated, so tired. I don't mean to sound this pathetic. I want to sound angry. I know I should be angry. I was angry last night. We'd both screamed ourselves hoarse, and, the strange thing was, I don't even remember what we were shouting about. I remember words like 'Buffy', and 'bitch', and 'Shanshu,' but everything else is just a foggy blur.

It doesn't matter what we said; he's still leaving. He's leaving again. The tit always leaves. I hate the bastard for it.

I suddenly look up at him. He was once my Sire. Now he's standing before me all pink and warm, the sun already causing his marble flesh to brown. He wants to talk to me. He's saying something right now, but I don't hear a word. All I hear is the blood. It drowns out everything else and I find myself staring at his neck.

I stand up and place my hands on either side of Angel's face. He flinches. I know my hands are like ice upon his cheeks. His face feels like it's on fire. It burns. I never thought ninety-eight degrees could burn like this.

"What are you doing?" Angel asks, his voice annoyingly calm.

In response, I put my nose to his neck and inhale. Deeply.

"Warm." I mutter. "You're warm, Sire."

Angel can probably smell the whiskey on my breath. He knows it's the alcohol talking. I know it's the alcohol talking. That's what I'll say if he asks.

"Get off me."

I move my hands to his shoulders. "Can't order me around now, Liam," I taunt, pressing him against the wall. "You're warm."

"It comes with having a pulse." Angel makes a valiant effort to push me away from his neck, but I only grip him harder. I sniff him again, trying in vain to smell my Sire, but all I can smell is the human.

"You're a real boy now, but I bet you still get hard when a chit nibbles at your jugular." I put my blunt teeth against Angel's skin.

I can feel his heart beat faster and his breath quicken. It thrills me. I love freaking him out like this. What I love even more is that he can't do a thing about it. I can vamp out any second and drain him dry. He's the victim here, not me.

"If I were to turn you, what'd you be like?" I wonder, kissing his neck softly. "Would you be insane like you were in Sunnydale? Or maybe you'll be all cultured and refined and force me to go to the bleedin' opera? I suppose it doesn't matter. I can get Red to fix your soul good and proper and then you'll be alright again."

"Stop playing around, boy."

I chuckle. The human is trying to be my Sire. He does a wonderful impression, but it's not the same because he's breathing. "How do you call me boy, Liam? You're the human now."

"Stop calling me that," Angel says between clenched teeth.

It's an interesting coincidence that my name's a variation of his. For the longest time I thought Angelus wanted me to change my name because saying it reminded him of being human. Course, he hated the name 'Spike' when I chose it. It took him forever to stop calling me 'Will'. Years even. To him I was always 'Will'. He never did add the 'Liam' part.

I grin. I know he hates it and it hurts him. That's why I say it now.

"Liam? That's your name, innit?"

He looks pissed. What's he gonna do about it? Nothing, that's what. He doesn't have the power anymore.

"My name is Angel."

Angel. Liam. Angelus. The ponce always did have too many names. "No, that was your name when you were all soul-having. You're not a vamp anymore, Peaches. You're human. You're Liam."

"No, I'm not."

With a last kiss to the neck, I release Angel. "No, of course you're not."

He looks at me strangely. He thinks I've gone off the deep end. Well, maybe I have. Not like he cares, anyway.

"Do you miss it, Angel?" I ask suddenly.

"Miss what?"

Is he really that clueless? Stupid question. He's always clueless. "Being a vampire."

"No."

I smile. He looks guilty. The damn liar. "You like being deaf, do you? You like being blind? Are you frustrated that you can't smell me, that I can snap your neck before you can scream?"

"This humanity, it's a gift, a reward." He says this slowly, like even he doesn't believe it anymore.

"Is that what it is? Funny, I think of it kinda like a death sentence. You're decaying, Sire. Doesn't that bother you?"

"You're an idiot, Spike. "

Wow, good comeback. Not that I expected much from the damn fairy. "Why don't you go and tell Buffy about it? She'll make it all better, won't she?"

"What are you..."

"Don't fuck with me, Angelus!" I practically scream. Hey, I'm angry again. Maybe now he'll pay attention. "I know why you're leaving. You can't handle it, can you? Can't handle being warm, being less than you were before. You can't handle breathing or that damn heartbeat. You can't handle being alive!"

"I think you're getting it mixed up, Spike. I can handle being alive. You're the one who can't!"

That statement is so ludicrous I can't help but roll my eyes. Like I need him. Ha! The poofer's more screwed up then I thought. "Then why are you leaving? Admit it, your miserable life only made sense when she was in it. You've barely been human for a week and you're already crawling to her like..."

"You?"

Oh, that's low, even for him. "I never crawled anywhere, Angelus! You were her bitch, not me!"

"I was her bitch? You were the one following her around like a puppy just because Drusilla wouldn't give you the time of day..."

"Hey, I loved Buffy. More than you ever did!"

"You didn't love her, Spike. You were just obsessed with her!"

"Because she was the Slayer?" I spit. Not like I haven't heard that one before.

"No, because she loved me."

Well, this is new. If ever there was a statement that caused me to raise my eyebrows this is one of them.

"That's what it was all about, wasn't it? Me."

"Are you trying to say I'm in love with you?" The joke sounds weak even to my own ears.

"No, you idiot, I'm trying to say you wanted to be me. If I'm evil, you're evil. If I'm good and dating a Slayer then you'll be good and date the same Slayer, only you'll do it better!"

"So, my entire existence somehow centers around you? Best not fly today, mate. Your ego's gonna sink the bloody plane!"

"It's always been a competition with you, Spike. Everything you've ever done..."

"Was done to top you?"

"Yes."

I lose it. Right then and there I lose it. To say I'm pissed would be a huge understatement. I'm furious. The poof has no right to call me some bloody Fledge going after Master's table scraps. I'm better than that. I'm my own vampire. I don't need my ponce of Sire saying I'm not.

I punch him. Hard. His nose starts bleeding and it's then I remember he's human and can't play rough anymore.

"Angel, are you okay?" I shouldn't have hit him so hard.

He doesn't say anything, which weirds me out. He doesn't even try to hit me back. He just goes to the couch and sits down.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I need him to talk. I need him to say something, anything, but he's just sitting there. I go to the fridge and get an ice pack and some paper towels. When I return, he takes them from me without a word.

Oh, God, I can't believe I hit him. How could I have forgotten he was one of them? He's human now and I hit him. Jesus Christ, I probably broke his nose! Wait, no, I didn't. There'd be more bruising if I did. I wish he would say something. If he wants me to apologize on my hands and knees I'd do it if he'd just say the word - any word.

"Angel?" The neediness in my voice disgusts even me as I sit down next to him.

"You don't want me to go, do you?" he asks.

"No," I say. "I don't."

"Come with me, Will."

I feel so horrible about hitting him I don't bother correcting him when he says the wrong name.

"I can't go to Rome and watch you and the Slayer be all lovey-dovey and then feel guilty about it every time I walk into the room." I pause to swallow the lump in my throat. "Or maybe I just don't want to see her not feeling guilty. I know she never loved me, but when I died, she was there. She never cared more for me then when I was burning to dust with that damn amulet 'round my neck. I can't go back to her and have her... It makes it cleaner, ya know? If I stayed dead. You don't even have to think about me anymore, Peaches. Just walk out that door and have your happy ending. Forget all about me."

"I don't want to forget you, Spike."

Bugger! The poof's crying. Well, so am I. I'm sitting right next to him and I can smell the blood and, oh God, he's really leaving.

"I never wanted the Shanshu, Angel," I admit. "I don't even want Buffy anymore, I just - don't leave," I'm practically begging him.

It's then I realize how much like a wife I'm acting.

Wiping my tears away, I stand up. I don't need him anymore than I need Buffy or Drusilla. I don't need to beg like a bleedin' woman. I'm a Master Vampire, the Big Bad. I'm not some co-dependent bitch who needs another person to complete myself. Well, maybe I am. Not like I'm gonna admit that to him.

"Just go," I say again.

"My flight's not for another few hours."

Of course his flight's not for another few hours. Doesn't mean he can't get the hell out. "Why are you still here?" I ask. I see his eyes widen and I know he doesn't have an answer.

"I can't leave you here."

Well that's real sweet, Angelus, but I still don't care.

"You were never any good at being alone."

Yeah, I know. He doesn't think I'm gonna kill myself, does he? He's not worth it. "I don't know why you'd care. Leaving's what you're best at."

I don't know why I bring that up. What can I say? I'm a bitter, sad, little vampire.

"You're not still sore about China, are you?"

No, Angelus, why would I be sore? You just abandoned us so you could go off and brood like a wanker. Why would I be sore?

"I wanted to go to Coney Island."

Angel blinks. "What?"

"For your birthday. I wanted to go to Coney Island, but Darla insisted on Romania. I still don't see how Gypsies taste any better than Americans. She said they were. I've had both. They taste the same to me."

Angel doesn't say anything. He just sits there looking like a moron. I hate the bastard, I really do.

"It would have been better if we'd gone to the States," I continue. "Dru wanted to ride the carousal and you would've gotta a kick out of the Water Carnival. It would have been easier if we had stuck to Americans. They usually don't curse you if you eat family members."

I know I'm rambling, but I can't stop. He probably thinks I'm gonna hit him again.

"Do you believe in fate, Angel? Destiny? See, I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure. I thought Drusilla was my destiny and then I _knew_ it was Buffy. I knew it. Then I knew it was the Shanshu. I fulfilled the criteria, saved the world and everything. I never wanted the bloody thing. I saw it as something I could take from you. Well, I didn't take it away. You've got your humanity. You'll have Buffy in about twenty hours. Maybe you'll kill Dru for the honeymoon, eh? Nothing like a little familial staking to get the romantic juices flowing."

He's still not saying anything. I want to smoke something. I'm pissed that I don't have a cigarette on me.

"Spike..."

That's all he can manage? My damn name?

"Don't ask me to come with you! You know I can't."

"Please." Now he's begging. It doesn't seem right. He's never begged me for anything and now - it's unnatural, that's what it is.

"If you want me so bad, why don't you stay?"

I'm thinking about rephrasing that. It sounds like I want him to be my groin buddy. Fat chance! I have standards.

"I can't," he says helplessly. "You know I can't."

"Yeah," I snort, "because of Buffy."

"I love her, Spike."

Of course he does. She's the love of his bleedin' life. They're _soulmates. _He was mooning all over her back in Sunnydale, the stupid arse. I hope he chokes on a bag of peanuts and dies on the plane.

"But not me?"

Christ, I can't believe I said that out loud.

"Sure I do. I have for a while."

Somehow those casual words are more real than Buffy's tears and quiet lies of 'I love you' whispered so long ago on the Hellmouth. Thinking about her is all I can do to keep from attaching myself to Angel like a child and begging him to stay.

I think I'm crying again. I really am pathetic. No wonder Dru left and Buffy never loved me.

He stands and walks towards me. And suddenly the poof's hugging me and I'm drowning in human warmth and useless tears. I cling to him and he clings back, but it doesn't matter. He's still leaving.

He kisses my forehead gently, like he used to do when I was a Fledge. His lips burn.

"I have to do this, Spike," he murmurs.

I know he does. She's Buffy. She's the priority. She's always been the priority. I'm not bitter about that. She was my priority for so long and now - she's not. She's Angel's.

He steps away from me. "I can visit you if you want."

That's nice, I get visitation. Does he think I'm twelve? Probably does, the stupid poof. I shake my head. "Me or her, Peaches. Can't have us both."

"Why?"

He's staring at me so intensely, like he doesn't already know the answer.

"Go be human, hero. I'll be fine."

That's a lie. We both know it.

The tears are moving silently down his face. He's torn, I know he is. But he'll choose Buffy. He'll always choose her in the end.

I choke back a sob. "Name one of your kiddies after me, yeah?" Another joke.

Silently, he embraces me again and I have to be careful not to break his ribs. I tell myself he's human now and I can't hug him too tightly. If I need a reminder, all I have to do is look at his swollen nose. Distractingly, I wonder what he'll tell Buffy when she sees it. Perhaps he'll say he fell down some more stairs?

I'm gonna miss him and his stupid excuses. I'll even miss his stupid Manilow. Desperate, I inhale his scent. Human, always human. It's still him, though. Still my Sire. I've gotta stop crying. I'm not a woman. Let the poof cry if he wants, but I'm not gonna.

Reluctantly, I push him away. "You should go." I can't stop my voice from shaking. Angel's smart, he doesn't trust himself to speak. He nods his head and walks to the door. I try to stop crying, but I can't. I'm weak like that.

He turns back to me. "Spike." His voice is trembling as much as mine. "I - bye," he finishes lamely.

I see him pick up his bags. The door opens and I stand back to avoid the sunlight streaming in. Guess a creature like me isn't fit for any place but the shadows. The door closes.

And he's gone.


End file.
